


Not A Silent Night

by LarielRomeniel



Series: The Waiting Room [16]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Christmas, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarielRomeniel/pseuds/LarielRomeniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lance family gets a scare at Christmas. But is there really anything to be scared of? Writteen for the Christmas in July fest on the lot_fans comm on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Christmas in July fest on lot_fans dot livejournal dot com. This was supposed to be something fluffy, but it's me. So of course it couldn't be simple.
> 
> Many thanks to Jael for all her help with this one!
> 
> The characters are, of course, the property of DC Entertainment and I make no money from this.

A _thump_ woke Len from an old nightmare, a reliving of one of those visions from Jurgen’s Ridge. He peered at the clock on the nightstand. Just after three o’clock Christmas morning, after a Christmas Eve that hadn’t exactly been a silent night.

He rolled over to see Sara already sitting up. As their eyes met, they heard a distinct _crash,_ and Len shook off his drowsiness. He slid out of bed, grabbing his communications earpiece from the nightstand and thumbing the biometric lock on its drawer to retrieve his Cold Gun.

After this past evening, he wasn’t taking any chances.

The Trickster had gotten loose again, with a plan to poison the Central City water supply. Len could still hear James Jesse’s voice singing a crackpot version of a Christmas carol while he dumped his dangerous cocktail at the main water treatment plant.

_“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but this poison’s so delightful. To everyone’s home it must go, let it flow let it flow let it flow!”_

Len helped Team Flash save the city (again) by freezing the pipes before the poison could get into the distribution system.

Jesse _almost_ got away when pressure on the frozen pipes made one of them start spraying a mist that blinded Len for a moment. That was when Barry sped in and created one of his mini windstorms to push the mist away and slam Jesse hard against a wall.

The Trickster was groggy but conscious. He glared at Len and hissed, “Mardon was right. You _have_ gone soft. In a hurry to get back to the wife and kiddies, do some caroling? Here’s one for you: _Have yourself a deadly little Christmas, may your hearts be stopped…”_

Len hauled the man to his feet with a growl. Jesse’s eyes brightened manically. “Maybe you’ll like this one better! _Oh-oh tidings of homicidal joy, murderous joy! Oh-oh ti-i-dings of homicidal joy_!”

Barry literally beat Len to the punch, ending the Trickster’s bellowing with one good right hook. Then he and Len bundled the maniac into a metahuman cell in the pipeline for a long winter’s nap.

Or at least until the Central City PD could take him back to his custom cell in Iron Heights.

Those events of eight hours ago were on Len’s mind as he quietly moved to the door, motioning for Sara to stay where she was beside Joy’s bassinet. She had her smartphone in hand, ready to signal for backup if it was needed.

Len opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, closing the door again behind him. He took a few steps toward the stairs, then tensed as he heard a low, familiar laugh floating up from the living room.

_How the hell did Jesse get out? How did he get HERE?_

Len felt a chill run down his spine. While most of Central City’s criminal element left the Lance family alone (they’d already learned it would bring down the heat of three hero teams: Flash, Arrow and Legends), the Trickster was a rule unto himself.

And he preferred targeting innocents.

Len activated the Cold Gun, knowing the sound would prompt Sara to call for backup before getting the kids into the attic panic room. Within seconds, Barry’s voice came over the comms.

_“Got your 911. What’s going on?”_

Len kept his voice to a whisper. “James Jesse is in my house!” He tensed as he heard that low laughter again.

He could hear Barry’s _whoosh_ through the comms. _“Okay, Cisco’s going to check the pipeline. I’m right outside your front porch, Len. I’ve been all around the perimeter. I don’t see any sign of a break-in, but I can’t see in with the curtains closed. Is the spare key still in the usual place? Give me one tap for yes, two for no.”_

Len tapped his earpiece once as he went to the top of the stairs leading to the living room. He could see the glow from the lights of the Christmas tree and the lamp that Mickey insisted on leaving on for Santa. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have a view of the first floor until he reached the landing, and by that time, whoever was in his home would see him too.

Making him a target.

Then Sara whispered over the comms, _“Mickey and Laurel aren’t in their rooms.”_

He heard that laughter again. And singing. _“Oh-oh ti-i-dings of homicidal joy!”_

Len growled and bounded down the stairs, gun ready to send Jesse to a cold hell. He’d taken only three steps before he heard Cisco over the comms announcing, “ _Trickster’s still in the pipeline_!” along with the sound of his front door flying open and Barry shouting, “Len, hold your fire!”

Then Barry was with him on the landing, standing in the way of the Cold Gun, his hands on Len’s shoulders. “Look. They’re safe. It’s okay,” he whispered. “ _He’s not here_. He was never here. Calm down or you’ll scare them.” He stepped aside to let Len see what was below.

It looked like the aftermath of a cyclone. The floor was littered with wrapping paper and ribbons. All the presents that he and Sara had stacked under and around the Christmas tree were now open and scattered around the room, which was lit by a brass floor lamp with its shade askew.

And in the middle of the mess sat his two oldest children. Six-year-old Mickey sat with a half-opened present in his hands. Four-year-old Laurel was cuddling a big stuffed polar bear that was nearly half her size. She dropped the toy to hold her arms out to her father.

“Santa came, Daddy!”

Shaking, Len flipped the safety on the Cold Gun and set it down. He took a deep breath to calm himself before going down to kneel and wrap his arms around both kids, kissing them and just holding them for a long moment.

“I see Santa came, Bright Eyes,” he finally said, dropping another kiss on top of Laurel’s blonde curls. “Is that why you haven’t said hello to Uncle Flash yet?”

“Hi, Uncle Flash,” Laurel said obediently to Barry, who was now standing at the edge of the mess.

“Hi, Uncle Flash,” Mickey echoed, just a bit sullenly, a guilty look on his face.

Barry knelt down to Mickey’s eye level. “Hi, Mickey,” he answered in the strange vibrating tone he used to disguise his voice from people who didn’t know his true identity. Like the Lance children. “You know you two gave your mom and dad a scare tonight.”

Len felt Sara sidle up to him with Joy in her arms as Mickey answered. “We just wanted to see our presents.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “You mean _you_ wanted to see them and you roped your sister into it.”

Mickey looked down at the floor and nodded.

“What happened to waiting until six in the morning?” Sara asked.

The guilty look disappeared as Mickey looked up and… _smirked_ at that _._ Before Len could blink at the surprise of seeing _that_ expression on his son’s face, Mickey said, “You only said not to wake _you_ up before six in the morning. You didn’t say _we_ couldn’t get up.”

Cisco was cackling over the comms. Barry started to grin, until Len shot him a look that said _don’t even think about laughing_. With some effort, Barry schooled the visible half of his face into a serious expression and said, “Sounds like you will make a good lawyer someday.”

“Maybe,” Len said. “But Michael Quentin Lance, you and I are going to have a talk later about bending the rules. And about using your sister as an accomplice.”

He ruffled his son’s hair, ignoring Barry’s smirk and Sara’s ironic chuckle.

“C’mon, kids,” Sara said, jerking her head back to the stairs. “Back to bed. Say good night to Uncle Flash.”

“G’night, Uncle Flash,” Laurel echoed, while Mickey said, “G’night Uncle Ba- Uncle _Flash_.”

The children scrambled up the stairs. Sara raised an eyebrow at Barry and said, “Y’know, my dad will be heartbroken not to see the kids open their presents.” She winked and disappeared up the stairs.

Barry let out a sigh. “I forgot to modulate my voice when I first came in,” he said. “I think Mickey’s onto me. Sorry.”

One layer of protection stripped away from his son. Len fought down a fresh burst of worry. “He was bound to figure it out soon anyway. He’s a smart kid.”

“Maybe.” Barry pushed his cowl back and said in a low voice, “Len, I’ve never seen you as tightly wound as you were just now. What’s going on?”

Len shook his head. “I don’t know, Barry. But I’d swear to you that I heard Jesse in my living room before we called you.”

 _“I think I can tell you what’s happening,”_ Cisco chimed in over the comms. _“Bro, did any of that water get on you at the treatment plant?”_

Len thought for a moment, then answered in an uncertain tone, “There was that mist from the broken pipe. I had to wipe it off my goggles.”

_“Some must have gotten on your face. Had any nightmares tonight?”_

Now he was more certain. “Yeah, right before a noise down here woke me up.”

 _“Okay, then you got exposed to some of Trickster’s poison,”_ Cisco said _. “It was a hallucinogen that causes anxiety and paranoia. Good thing you only absorbed a little through your skin. If you’d swallowed any we’d be in real trouble.”_

“Should I be worried now?”

There was silence over the comms for a moment. Then Cisco said, _“It should be wearing off. You probably wouldn’t have had worse than a nightmare if the kids hadn’t woken you up before the stuff left your system. But just to be safe you can counteract it with a depressant. Still got that bourbon from Thanksgiving?”_

Len exchanged a look with Barry. “The 140-proof stuff? Yeah.”

_“A shot of that should do the trick.”_

Barry vanished and returned in a blink with the bottle and two glasses. “This won’t do a thing for me,” he said, handing a glass to Len, “but they say you shouldn’t drink alone.”

Barry poured and clinked his glass against Len’s, before they both downed their shots. Len closed his eyes and grunted at the burn of the alcohol. Then he opened them and said, “Thanks, Barry. If you hadn’t stopped me…”

“Don’t,” Barry said. “They’re okay, and that’s what counts.”

 _“It’s been a rough night, bro,”_ Cisco said. _“Go sleep it off. Lisa and I will see you this afternoon.”_

“Good night, Cisco,” Len said. Then he sighed as he looked around at the mess of opened Christmas presents. “Sara’s right, Quentin will be heartbroken.”

Barry grinned. “Got more wrapping paper?”

“In the den.”

In a… _flash_ … the presents were re-wrapped and re-stacked under the tree. Barry gave Len a little salute and said, “Merry Christmas,” before disappearing into the night.

Len felt weariness wash over him as the adrenaline drained away and the bourbon kicked in. After one more look around (and one more check of the locks), he climbed the stairs to return to bed.

Sara was sitting up, feeding Joy. Laurel was sprawled next to her, already asleep. Mickey sat on the other edge of the bed, looking pensive.

Len removed his comm, put the Cold Gun away and exchanged a look with Sara before sitting on the bed himself and drawing Mickey onto his lap. Mickey buried his face into Len’s chest for a minute, and then asked, “Did we really scare you, Daddy?”

Len kissed the top of his head. “For a little bit, yeah.”

Mickey pulled back to look at him. “I thought you never got scared.”

Len chuckled. “Oh, I do. Especially when it comes to you and your sisters and your mom. But want to know a secret?”

Mickey nodded, his blue eyes looking solemn.

Len smiled as he pressed his forehead against Mickey’s and whispered, _“Everybody gets scared sometimes.”_

Mickey’s eyes got wide. “Even Uncle Mick? Even _Mommy_?”

Len bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but Sara was already snickering. When he could trust his voice, he said, “Yes, even Mommy. Now, get some sleep, buddy.”

He pressed another kiss on Mickey’s forehead, and the boy stretched out on his stomach beside Laurel. Len lay down too, head propped on one hand while the other traced slow circles on Mickey’s back. As always, that lulled his son to sleep.

He looked up at Sara to see her unlatching Joy. Once the baby was back in her bassinet, Sara stretched out beside Laurel and reached out to link hands with Len.

“How are you feeling now?” she whispered. “Did Cisco’s cure work?”

Of course she’d still been listening in. “I think so,” he answered, fighting back a yawn. “I’m tired. And I can’t help thinking if Barry hadn’t been here…”

“Don’t. You wouldn’t ever hurt your kids. You know that. You’re not your father.” She pulled his hand up to her lips for a kiss. “You know we’ll all laugh about this later.”

“You’re right. As usual,” he smiled. “Hey. In all the excitement I forgot to wish you a happy birthday.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. But you can make it up to me on New Year’s Eve, after my six-week checkup. I’ve got some plans.” 

She gave him a sly smile, quickly broken by a wide yawn. He chuckled, knowing how feedings always made her sleepy. “Mmm. So much for me trying to be a tease,” she said. “We should get some sleep too. If we’re lucky they’ll be out till seven.” She shifted to get more comfortable and kissed his hand again. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Len smiled as he watched Sara drift off. He took one more look at his sleeping family, and surrendered himself to heavenly peace.

* * *

They did laugh about it around the family dinner table that afternoon. Though they skipped the parts about Len’s hallucination and the Cold Gun, to keep from scaring Donna and the kids. Not to mention keeping Quentin from having another heart attack.

And they never, never let Mickey live it down.

**Author's Note:**

> The early morning wakeup did actually happen in my home, when my son was eight and wanted to see his presents without waking us up.
> 
> We haven't let him live it down.


End file.
